


Should Have Known Better

by Arwriter



Series: Repression [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I am projecting directly onto Virgil, Panic Attacks, could be romantic or platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24703804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwriter/pseuds/Arwriter
Summary: “Are you ok, Virge?”It all happened at once, too many people talking, too much anger and hatred and fear, and it was his fault his fault-Virgil felt himself fall backwards, landing hard on the kitchen floor. Without thinking he brought his hands up to block his face, to protect himself as much as he could, whimpering despite himself when he heard approaching footsteps. He curled in on himself, tense and waiting.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Repression [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797523
Comments: 20
Kudos: 314





	Should Have Known Better

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't uploaded anything in a while, but I'm alive!

  
  
  


Really, the fight was ridiculous to begin with. It was nothing that hadn’t happened before, and Virgil definitely should not be feeling the vaguely familiar churn in his gut, the sickly tightening of his chest. 

It was a simple disagreement about a new idea Roman had come up with, something  _ “new and spectacular” _ the creative side had colorfully put it. And of course, Virgil had voiced his concerns. Because that was what he  _ did.  _

It was easier now- now that he could work  _ with  _ the others rather than against them, a voice to be listened to rather than feared and chased away. 

And it wasn’t like they didn’t argue among themselves constantly. As Logan had pointed out, their bickering was usually what got them to any kind of conclusion. And sure, it would get heated sometimes, fingers pointed and name-calling would occasionally occur (usually from Roman) and on certain days it would be more difficult to handle, voices too loud and too much, but it had gotten easier. There was no more malice aimed at him specifically, no more ganging up and refusing to listen, no more hate or scorn from the people he cared so deeply about protecting. 

Today, however, maybe things were a bit different. 

He’d been a bit too harsh, snapping too quickly and escalating the argument faster than was necessary. It hadn’t been a good morning- or a good couple of days if Virgil was being honest with himself. 

He was still reeling after the incident with Deceit, a harsh reminder of how easily the Dark Side could slip into their lives, pulling Virgil right back into the memories of how things used to be. 

He hadn’t slept much, and when he did there was nothing but nightmares and flashes of the past, and the last few days that familiar anxious feeling had been steadily building up, making him more jumpy, his paranoia skyrocketing. 

The other sides had become accustomed to recognizing the signs of a bad day, especially if it only continued to get worse. This last week, however, everyone had been understandably preoccupied, and Virgil had no right to put his own issues above more pressing matters. It would go away, it always did. 

Now, he wondered if he was imagining just how aggressive this argument had become. 

“Why do you  _ always  _ do this?” Virgil froze at Prince’s shout, his  _ definitely  _ louder than normal shout, a brief burst of panic clawing at his throat. 

He should stop. He should deflate and duck out, give in and let Roman have his way. The other side was angry, on edge, and fed up with his bullshit, and Virgil knew all too well what happened when he pushed an issue with someone blinded by rage. 

But Virgil couldn’t stop himself, and the fear and nausea building up in him made him defensive, mouth moving without his brain’s permission. 

“Because  _ I’m  _ the one who has to protect Thomas from  _ your  _ stupid ideas! Unlike you, I’m not in this for my own ego!” 

Guilt coiled in his gut when he saw hurt flash across Princey’s eyes, but it was quickly drowned out by another wave of fear when the look morphed to anger.

Patton cut him off before he could yell again, but there was no relief in the interruption when the words managed to be somehow even worse. 

“Hey, come on Kiddo, that doesn’t seem...Roman’s just trying to help Thomas, you know that.” 

The words were laced with disappointment, something that felt like knives to his chest when it came from Patton- the first person to ever see him as anything other than a useless hindrance, especially when it came with the underlying suggestion that Virgil  _ didn’t  _ care about Thomas. 

Everything he did, every time he argued, he was just trying to protect him. All of them. Patton knew that, didn’t he?

“I am too!” He said, ignoring the way his voice had become just a bit quieter than before. “Patton, you think I do this just for the hell of it? I’m just trying to make sure Thomas doesn’t--” 

“Doesn’t what?” Roman interrupted, too loud too loud  _ too loud.  _ He was angry, all Virgil ever did was make people angry. “Doesn’t live a happy  _ worry free  _ life?” 

It wasn’t hard for Virgil to pick up on the unsaid.  _ Thomas would be better off without you. We all would.  _

Virgil’s throat felt tight, the panic now cold and all consuming. He could feel his heartbeat growing dangerously fast, breaths coming too quick and shallow. He opened his mouth to shoot something back, to keep them from seeing how  _ scared  _ he was, blinded by Roman’s glare and Patton’s irritation. 

It was almost a relief when Logan raised a hand to cut him off, stoic and impartial. Virgil wasn’t sure he would even be able to force coherent words out right now. 

But then Logan raised an eyebrow at him, not the careful look of concern he gave when he noticed Virgil was having an attack, but something that seemed to be a reflection of both Roman and Patton’s anger. 

_ You made them all mad, you made them mad, they hate you, they hate you they hate you. You’re the outcast again, they don't want you here.  _

“Virgil, you know we all...appreciate your input-”  _ he hesitated, he’s lying he’s lying  _ “-but logically, this shouldn’t be an issue. You’ve blown this all out of proportion, Virgil. More so than usual.” 

He didn’t miss the irritation in the Logical side’s voice, the way all eyes in the room were on him, glaring at him,  _ hating him.  _

Virgil was suddenly painfully aware of how close they all were, knees practically brushing under the table they’d gathered at in the mindscape’s dining area. In Thomas’s living room, during these arguments there was usually a good amount of space between them. 

The only one who could really reach him without crossing the room was Logan. If he was angry enough, he could easily reach through the stair railing and grab Virgil by the hoodie, holding him still while Roman approached, Patton standing to close him in- 

But they wouldn’t do that.  _ They wouldn’t.  _

But...it would be so easy now. They were so close together, and he’s made them so, so  _ angry.  _ He would deserve it anyway, he’d only pushed an issue that didn’t matter, been the bad guy again and pushed the only people who cared about him to the point of- 

“Anxiety, are you even listening?” 

Virgil flinched at the use of that name, the memories of hate and bitter loneliness rushing back all at once, the annoyance in Prince’s voice burning like acid. 

No one seemed to notice, anything Virgil even tried to breathe out overshadowed by Logan’s biting remark. “Virgil, we do expect you to at least listen to—“ 

“Are you ok, Virge?” 

It all happened at once, too many people talking, too much anger and hatred and fear, and it was his fault his  _ fault-  _

He had barely even heard what Patton had said, unable to comprehend the concern building when he was so focused on Roman, who hadn’t stopped ranting. 

The creative side raised his hand- and it was just a gesture, just a dramatic gesture, Virgil  _ knew  _ that. 

Roman often spoke with his hands when he was worked up, always flamboyant, always moving. Virgil was used to that, it had never bothered him before. It was harmless. 

But all of that went right out the window the second he saw Roman raise his arm up, still consumed with anger, and everything after that was a blur of panicked instinct. 

He jerked backwards, eyes squeezing shut as the chair tipped over, stumbling on suddenly unsteady legs, everything spinning and far away. 

He thought he heard voices, angry no doubt, angry at him for being such a baby, for making such a big deal over a problem he created, but the blood was rushing to his head, heart pounding in his ears. 

Virgil felt himself fall backwards, landing hard on the kitchen floor. Without thinking he brought his hands up to block his face, to protect himself as much as he could, whimpering despite himself when he heard approaching footsteps. He curled in on himself, tense and waiting. 

“Virge?” 

There was a hand on his shoulder, and Virgil flinched back so fast he didn’t realize he’d slammed into the wall until a flare of pain shot up his back. 

“Virgil! What’s wrong?” 

He was fairly sure it was Patton talking, voice muffled by Virgil’s own out of control breathing, the panic attack building up faster and faster. 

Through the haze of fear, Virgil thought that maybe Patton was the one side who wouldn’t hurt him for this. Patton was kind, he wasn’t one to get angry easily, despite how impulsive and protective of Thomas he could be. 

The other two could often be swayed by their anger, but Virgil knew they wouldn’t do anything drastic to him if he didn’t deserve it. 

Only, Virgil  _ did  _ deserve it. He’d been stupid and unfair, and some anxious part of him had driven him to tear apart the family he’d waited so long for. They had every right to lash out however they saw fit. 

And yet here he was, cowering on the floor like a child, unable to stop the string of please that barely translated to breathy, shaking words. 

“I- I’m sorry, I sorry guys, we- we can do w-whatever...whatever you guys want I was just- I was just…” 

“Hey, Virge it’s ok,” he heard Patton say, and Virgil thought there was a hint of confusion in his voice. “It was just an argument, honey. What’s wrong?” 

Slowly and cautiously, painfully aware of how badly he was trembling in his little heap, Virgil glanced up from the floor, face burning when his vision was blurred with hot tears. 

Patton was crouched on the floor a few steps away, looking like a deer in the headlights, eyes brimming with his own tears behind his glasses. A spark of hope ignited in Virgil’s chest. Patton wasn’t angry anymore. Patton didn’t look like he wanted to hurt him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil could see Roman and Logan where he’d left them at the table. They’d both stood up at some point, frozen at their chairs, but Virgil didn’t let himself look long enough to see their expressions, pushing himself back against the wall at the cruel reminder of how angry they’d all been. 

“Virgil,” Logan said, and Virgil flinched before he could stop himself. “You need to breathe. 4, 7, 8, remember? We—“ 

“Can’t—“ he gasped out, the uncertainty mixing with fear only making his panic worse. “Can’t breathe, I can’t-- I--please I’m- I’m sorry I’m sorr--” 

“Hey kiddo, it’s alright,” Patton said, Virgil latching desperately onto the kindness he could pick up on in the words. “It was just a little argument. I think we all got a little carried away, right guys?” 

“Of course!” Roman agreed, still too loud, too close to becoming angry again. “I apologize, I was not acting very...princely, I suppose. If I had known it would…” he trailed off, and Virgil could practically see the crestfallen look in his eyes at the anxious side’s reaction to his voice. 

But Virgil couldn’t help it. Because no matter how loud the rational part of his mind screamed at him that everything was  _ fine,  _ it was just Roman and Roman wasn’t angry, Roman would never hurt him, it was buried under the relentless waves of panic. 

He would hate himself for the reaction later, he was sure, guilt bubbling somewhere beneath the fear, but the sound of Roman’s voice only made him cry harder, chest squeezing out what little air he could get, leaving him sobbing uncontrollably on the floor, still waiting for a blow that he knew would never come. 

“Oh kiddo, oh no we...Logan what do we--” 

Patton’s voice faded as Virgil’s breathing got worse, rocking himself slightly, gasping desperately for air he wasn’t allowed to get. He shouldn’t be reacting like this. He  _ shouldn’t.  _ They were his family. They wouldn’t hurt him, no matter how pathetic or annoying he was being, no matter how much a nuisance he was, no matter how much he held Thomas back. 

Because that's what he did. That was  _ all  _ he did, no matter how hard he tried to be good, to help and protect, to get the people he cared so much about to just understand. They knew in the long run, they were better off without him. They only put up with him because they had to. If they had an excuse to get rid of him- 

_ What if this was a good enough excuse.  _ He’d made them all pointlessly angry, right after Deceit had tried to manipulate them. He was a Dark Side. They knew that. What if all of Patton’s love wasn’t enough to convince the others not to treat him like one?

_ What if-- _

“Virgil.” 

Virgil’s eyes snapped open at the calm, carefully calculating voice of Logan, who had somehow managed to kneel by his side without the other noticing his approach. The logical side had begun to reach forward, hand hovering over Virgil’s knee but not touching. 

Virgil froze completely, gasping breaths coming to a halt, eyes glued to the unmoving hand. The hand that could so easily grab for him if it wanted to. It wasn’t like he could do much in this state, weak and dizzy, easy to overwhelm. 

“Virgil,” Logan said again, that familiar gentle tone he took when Virgil was having an attack. “You’re safe. You’re with us, you’re ok. You’re suffering from cognitive distortions. I assure you, whatever is happening is not--” 

“Are you going to hurt me?” 

Virgil hadn’t even realized he’d spoken until Logan’s reassurances were abruptly cut off, his hand disappearing from view, the room deathly still and quiet. 

And suddenly it was so much worse. Because he couldn't bring himself to look up, couldn’t see the look in Logan’s eyes, couldn’t see where he put his hand- 

Virgil’s eyes went to Patton, wide and desperate and clouded with so much irrational fear. 

“I’m...I’m sorry,” he stuttered, not even sure why he was apologizing anymore, definitely unsure of what he was even afraid of. They weren’t going to hit him or send him away. They  _ wouldn’t.  _ “Sorry, sorry I’m sorry I argued I-I shouldn’t have-should have...should have stopped I’m sorry, you guys can—“ 

“Virgil.” That was Roman, and there was something about the creative side so easily using his name again that made him stop his rambling. “You don’t need to...you’re not in danger, Virge. Nobody’s upset with you.” 

Virgil blinked, glancing wildly around the room at the three sides, his thoughts battling with reason, aching chest struggling to take in shaky breaths. 

“But…”  _ they weren’t going to hurt him, they weren’t going to hurt him,  _ “But I...you were mad. I shouldn’t- shouldn’t have kept arguing.” 

They argued all the time. It shouldn’t have been any different. But Roman had never...shouted at him like that before, the others were usually able to reign him back in. And they all hadn’t been against him like that, treating him like the antagonist since...since before things had gotten better. 

And then he’d been called Anxiety. A slip up that usually would never have been a problem, but today- when things had only been building up with no release, reminders of Deceit and dark sides, it had all been too much. 

“Virgil,” Logan said softly, and Virgil winced, everything just a bit too loud. “Can you look at me, please?” 

Virgil swallowed, throat still dry and tight, breathing still too fast and painful. But he obeyed, tense and trembling, raising his head to meet Logan’s gaze. 

The logical side, though his worry was still evident, gave a small, reassuring smile. “Nobody’s going to hurt you, Virgil.” 

And that undid something in him. Because he’d known that, he’d  _ known  _ his family would never hurt him. But hearing it said aloud for him, so simple like it was never even a question, that was all he needed to finally take a full breath, shoulders dropping their defensive stance. 

He took in shuddering breath after shuddering breath, unable to stop the hiccuping sobs that escaped in between. 

“Oh,  _ kiddo.”  _ Patton was beside him now, hands still hovering, tears welling up in his eyes. “Can I touch you?” 

Virgil nodded, refusing to be ashamed of how desperately he needed the physical reminder of safety. He leaned forward, shutting his eyes as he slumped against Patton’s chest, the other side quickly wrapping his arms around Virgil’s back.

“Hey, hey you’re ok,” Patton whispered, holding him close. “Copy my breathing, ok? I’m right here. Hold for four…” 

It took some time, as it usually did during a bad panic attack, Patton guiding him though his breathing exercises, breaths slow and exaggerated, voice quiet and soothing. 

Virgil almost fell back into a fit of panic when it dawned on him just how stupid he’d been, how tired everyone must be of him doing things like this. 

But then Patton kept talking to him, Logan offering gentle reassurances, Roman sending him guilty smiles every time he catches Virgil's wandering gaze, and everything slows down again. 

He’s beyond exhausted by the time his breathing slows enough for Patton to be satisfied, his lungs no longer screaming for air. He was too weak to even sit up on his own now, still shaky and sore, eyes heavy and drooping. 

He barely even felt himself being lifted off the floor, held in steady, safe arms and carried away from the kitchen. When he did manage to open his eyes, it was to a white suit and Roman looking down at him like Virgil was the only thing in the world that mattered. 

Virgil swallowed, guilt rising up in his chest at the reminder of how he’d acted, how the sound of Roman’s voice had driven him deeper into a senseless panic. He could only imagine how bad he’d made Roman feel for something that wasn’t remotely the creative side’s fault. 

“I’m sorry,” he slurred, his mouth refusing to cooperate with his muddled mind. “Didn’t...didn’t mean to make you--” 

“I shouldn’t have yelled,” Roman said, smiling softly like it was as simple as that. “I should have seen you were having a bad day.”

Virgil tried to shrug, but it was nearly impossible with a body that felt like lead cradled against Prince’s chest while they made their way to the couch. 

“It’s ok.” 

Roman slowly lowered Virgil onto the cushions, hesitating briefly before settling down next to him, giving the anxious side plenty of time to protest or move away. Not that Virgil would, Roman a welcome distraction from the shivers still racking his body.

“Patton’s getting you some water,” Prince explained. “And Logan’s running to find extra blankets. Do you...want to be alone?” 

Any other time, Virgil might have been embarrassed by how quickly he shook his head, and later he would  _ definitely  _ deny the way he leaned into the warmth of Roman’s touch. But he didn’t miss the quiet sigh of relief that came from the other side, or the fond smile he couldn’t quite shake. 

Roman hummed under his breath, carding his fingers through Virgil’s hair as he gradually drifted off, vaguely aware of someone draping a blanket over his shoulders, two more weights settling on either side of him. 

Virgil was fading before he could even think to try to make out what any of them were saying, the distant sound of their voices lulling him to sleep, still aware of the protective hold Prince had on him. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's been 78 years since I've done any writing, but hopefully, I'll be more active now. Hmu for prompts, I'm desperate for ideas to keep me motivated y'all


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